


Dreams and Make Believe

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, No Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-30
Updated: 2003-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-27 12:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian takes a trip down memory lane.





	Dreams and Make Believe

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

"So are you coming?"

I just look at him. He really can't be serious and I ask him so. 

"Why wouldn't I be? Besides, you can't tell me that this hasn't affected you any."

And if it has, I'm sure as hell not going to let him know. "Yes I can. Besides, I don't really see the big whoop over all this." 

"Brian!"

Turning away from the work in front of me, I growl "What?"

Looking at me for a few minutes, he shakes his head sadly. "Never mind." Grabbing his coat on the way to the door, he shouts, "I might stop and grab something to eat with friends, so don't wait up."

Kepping up appearances, I sigh and turn back to my desk. "Whatever."

Hearing the loft door bang shut, I get up from my desk I get a shot glass, a bottle of Beam and walk into the bedroom. Bending down, I twirl the combination lock of the small safe and pull out an old leather portfolio. Leaning against the side of the bed, I open the binder carefully, not 

It was my senior year at Central Catholic and as a requisite for graduation, all senior students had to complete at least forty hours of volunteer work at facility approved by the administration and I didn't complain when I was assigned to work at the public television station down the street from the school. 

The next Monday, I showed up at WQED Studios ready to be the best office gopher I could be. I thought that if I played my cards right, I could get some wonderful letters of recommendation out that I could send to colleges...that were far away from the Bastard and The Warden. 

Well I was half-right.

After going through a small orientation with the other volunteers, I was dragged to an elaborate set that seemed oddly familiar. As I looked around, my eyes spotted someone that I'd only seen on the ten-inch screen of our television and it was then that I knew I was going to be doing something a little more than fetching coffee and making copies.

Feeling the volunteer coordinator nudge my elbow, I snapped out my struck daze and made my way over to the man that rescued me for at least a half hour in the afternoon since I could remember.

"Hello Marcy, how are you doing today?"

Beaming she replied, "Just fine Fred." Gesturing for me to step up next to her, she said, "Brian I would like to introduce you to Fred Rogers. Fred, this is Brian a new volunteer that will be working on the set with you."

Pointing that famous smile in my direction, he shook my hand, "Nice to meet you Brian. Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Nice to meet you too, sir."

Getting up from the chair, he wrapped a friendly arm around my shoulders and began to give me the grand tour of the Land of Make Believe.

Those afternoons when I had to go down to the station became my guilty pleasure. Although I really didn't enjoy keeping track of hand puppets and other props, I lived for the personal attention that he showed me...more than my parents ever did, and when it came time for volunteer work to be completed, I stayed on for the rest of the year, trying to soak up as much goodness as I could before I had to return to the cold dreary house that my family supposedly lived in.

I can remember clearly my last day on the set. After we finished taping, Marcy brought out this huge cake and placed it right in front of me and just when I was about to ask her what was going on, Mr. Rogers stepped in.

"We know that this is your last day with us and we just wanted to let you know how much we appreciated your hard work. And this is also congratulations on being accepted to Penn State."

"How did you find out?"

Eyes twinkling, he replied. "I have my ways. Now, I think that it's time to open the gifts that we've been hiding for the past week."

"Thank you Mr. Rogers."

Shaking his head he laughed and gave me a small hug. "Call me Fred." 

 

And now I'm holding that moment in my hand.

 

"What are you doing?"

Looking over and up, I see the irate blonde that had stormed out of the loft a few minutes ago. "What are you doing back so early?"

"I forgot something, but now I'm glad I did," he smiled, sitting down and wrapping his arms around my waist. Getting comfortable, he turned to look at me.

"So, why are you holding a picture with you and Mr. Rogers and don't think that you can use sarcasm to get out of this one."

"I'm just paying tribute to one of the few that helped me escape the clutches of Jack and Joanie Kinney."

 

"How?"

 

"It's a story that I will tell you later, Sunshine. Now go get a glass.

 

 

(Dedication: Thanks Mr. Rogers for trying to make all of us better 'neighbors')


End file.
